


Kind Handling

by Brokenwords



Category: Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Blowjobs, Dom Steve, Dom/sub, Fluff, Identity Porn, M/M, Sub Bucky Barnes, Tiny Steve, Winter Soldier - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-30
Updated: 2020-12-30
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:34:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28434696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brokenwords/pseuds/Brokenwords
Summary: There was a system. The Soldier came in from the cold, creaking open the squeaky fire escape window and slipping inside. Standing damp and frosty on the carpet, he barely had to wait a minute before the sound of blankets rustling and shuffled feet approached the living room.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Comments: 24
Kudos: 134





	Kind Handling

_Once upon a time, Steve moved into a drafty apartment. Two nights later a stranger tumbled in from the fire-escape, bleeding and covered in armour and weapons and sporting a metal arm. The stranger had wild eyes full of pain and despite all that he apologized to Steve, muttered something about a safe-house (because it was his safehouse before Steve moved in) and Steve knew it was dumb, he couldn't just leave someone hurt, okay? So he chose to treat his errant stranger like a hurt animal and gently cleaned him up and fed him and … well things just spiraled from there, okay? The guy was HOT and he just needed a little direction and Steve was good at giving direction._

❄︎

There was a system. The Soldier came in from the cold, creaking open the squeaky fire escape window and slipping inside. Standing damp and frosty on the carpet, he barely had to wait a minute before the sound of blankets rustling and shuffled feet approached the living room. Despite the deafness in one ear, Steve always heard him and came. Duvet wrapped around him like a cape, Steve stepped close, blearily checking the Soldier over, gritty eyes tracking for blood or injuries. Muttering and tutting under his breath, Steve’s sleep stiff fingers pulled at armour and leather. Wordlessly, the Soldier let himself be undressed until he was nude and shivering and being lead to the shower. There he was bustled into the water, cold limbs shuddering under water as hot as it would go until his skin was pink with warmth. Then the Soldier sunk to his knees, nuzzling his nose into Steve’s concave belly and breathing in the scent of damp skin and arousal. He wanted to please, to show his thanks over the kind handling. 

It was never that easy though. First, the Soldier had to sit through getting his hair washed, bony fingers scratching against his scalp and working knots free. After that came the lemongrass soap, smoothing over every inch of his skin, soothing strokes and knuckles digging into sore muscles. Nothing was forgotten. He was scrubbed until he was clean all the way from behind his ears, down over his armpits, his belly, back, his cock, the crease of his knees, to the spaces between his toes. Everything was touched, and treasured, until every speck of dirt from the last mission was washed down the drain along with the guilt.

Next came the fluffy towels, drying every inch. And finally, the couch, the abandoned duvet wrapped around his nude limbs until he was a cozy burrito. He should feel vulnerable, sitting in the drafty apartment, tiny and dingy, but the worn couch was warm and the thin walls might not keep out a bullet but they kept in the scent of Steve and the sound of him puttering at the stove, dressed once more in his flannel pajamas. The pants were too big on Steve’s bony hips, slung low and giving glimpses of all the soft skin the soldier wanted to revel in. He just had to be patient. There were rules, steps to be followed, a calm progression that settled the fear and anxiety in his gut and just left the warmth of arousal and the feeling of safety. 

The Soldier drifted, warm, clean and content in the sounds of Steve moving around him. When he heard the scrape of a wooden chair on the floor, he knew it was time to get up and shuffle the three feet to the kitchen table. As expected, there was a cushion for him to kneel on and he sank onto it with a grateful sigh. Steve’s hand curled into his hair, tugging lightly and maneuvering until the Soldier’s head was softly cushioned against the inside of a flannel clad thigh. Then a cup, full of tea was pressed into his hands with the order to ‘drink’. It was hot and sweet, full of milk and honey that coated his throat and tongue and chased away any lingering cold. 

Between every sip, Steve stroked the Soldier’s head, fingers curling around his ears and brushing over his cheeks with one hand. It was quiet, just soft hums of pleasure and slurps of tea. And when the liquid was done his chin was tilted up. “Hungry?” Steve asked him with a quirk of an eyebrow. The Soldier paused, he wasn’t, not really, but his body rarely knew when it was. Not ready to speak yet he just gave a short nod, gratified by the pleased smile his action brought forth. 

There was a soft shuffle above his head, then the order came, “Open up.” The Soldier let his mouth fall open and a cube of cheese was pressed onto his tongue. It was crumbly and salty, smokey and strong. He chewed dutifully, enjoying the sensations that were almost too much but still focused on just one area of his body. All he had to do was taste. Next was a slice of orange, bright and citrusy. Then more cheese, this time creamy and sharp, followed by soft yeasty bread. He licked at the fingers pressing food into his mouth and hid a smile at the sharp inhale that followed. 

When the meal was done, his belly full and eyes sleepy, the Soldier nuzzled closer into the V of Steve’s thighs. Above him he heard a soft laugh. “Oh, you think it’s dessert time do you?” Steve tugged at the strands of the Soldier’s hair. “You think you deserve it?” 

It was a tough question. First because the Soldier didn’t think he deserved anything good. Second because he knew Steve thought the Soldier deserved everything good. But he also knew that Steve was in charge and therefore if Steve thought he deserved something good, _and Steve always thought that_ , then the Soldier supposed he did. He gave a short nod, wetting his lips and speaking for the first time that night. “Please.” 

It was barely a whisper, just a soft croak, but it earned the Soldier a pleased grin. “Well since you asked so nicely,” Steve replied as he stood and shoved his pajama pants down his thighs with one hand. He was naked underneath, and hard. The musky smell of his arousal made heat bloom through the Soldier’s belly and he whined softly, canting forward before he was given permission. The hand in his hair stopped him. “Ah-ah,” Steve chastised. “Slow. I don’t want you choking after I spent all that time feeding you nicely.” 

Steve sat back down, hissing at the cold seat on his bare ass. “Now, start slow.” He directed, loosening his fingers and carding them through the Soldier’s hair. 

The Soldier started with a kiss, sweet and damp, to the head of Steve’s cock. It was followed by another, this one far lewder, open mouthed and sucking. Steve groaned above him, fingers curling and tugging and the Soldier gave a breathy sigh and opened his mouth fully, letting Steve slide deep. He loved this. Once upon a time with a different handler, the Soldier had hated it. It had been a punishment. Now it was a reward. Now he reveled in the heat on his tongue, the pressure in his throat. 

It was safe here. He chose his own missions, and he came home to Steve. Steve who loved him, fed him, cared for him. Steve, who the Soldier craved. Making Steve feel good was a pleasure, a long lost want that he’d forgotten. The other half of him, the side that was still James Buchanan Barnes, the one that held his old memories, still remembered those things. James whispered all those forgotten snippets to him - memories of being on his knees in the war, taking comfort in the taste of another in his throat or the feel of a warm body pressed next to him. Giving pleasure and receiving it in turn was both an ancient memory and a new one. 

Moaning at both the onslaught of memories and the feel of Steve carving a warm place inside him, heating up those final stubborn slivers of cold, the Soldier dug his fingers into his thighs. He wanted to touch himself, relieve the heat between his legs. But no matter how many times he made his own decisions, his body was still a commodity and he hadn’t been given permission to touch himself yet. Steve would take care of him. Steve treasured him. 

Time lost meaning. There was just Steve and Steve’s cock in his mouth. 

The Soldier floated.

Steve came. 

The Soldier sucked, licked and swallowed, and breathed through his nose. 

Steve was left panting, his breaths shaking as he pressed small kisses over the Soldier’s face and lips. “So good,” the praise was heady and the Soldier’s cock twitched between his legs. He whined softly, unable to help himself. 

“Shh,” Steve whispered. He pressed another lingering kiss to the Soldier’s lips then stood up and offered his hand. “Come on,” he urged, tugging the Soldier to his feet and guiding him to the bedroom. It didn’t matter that the Soldier was bigger, taller, and stronger than Steve, he went like a dog on a leash, eager to please. 

Once they were curled up on the sheets, the kisses continued, trailing over the Soldier’s neck and shoulders, up to his cheekbones, his nose, his mouth. Praises were breathed into his mouth, whispers of ‘so good,’ and ‘such a good boy’, followed by ‘doing everything I say, so perfect for me.’ The words themselves were enough to make him pant with want, the arousal he’d mostly managed to ignore flaring and tightening his gut. He whimpered and was hushed with another kiss. 

Finally, fingers wrapped around his dick and stroked. “Let go sweetheart,” came the soft order. “You’ve been so good. Come for me.” And the Soldier did as instructed, stars bursting and heart shuddering an irregular rhythm. 

He drifted again. Lost in a haze of knowing he’d done well, that he had earned his reward and part of that reward was letting go of his constant surveillance. He felt snapshots of sensation, a wet cloth on his belly, a kiss to his lips, the whispers of “So good for me,” and “sleep.” 

And he slept.

❄︎

Morning came with the soft light of day. It crept persistently through the crack in the blinds and fell on the tangle of limbs curled under blankets. . 

“You back with me now, Buck?” Steve asked quietly as Bucky opened his eyes. 

Bucky cleared his throat and yawned. Then he gave a small sleepy smile at the lingering ache in the back of his throat. “Sure Stevie,” he whispered and it wasn’t a lie. The Soldier had been carefully soothed and tucked away, buried down deep, content to sleep until he was needed again. It was safe for Bucky to come out, to revel in the smile of his boyfriend and pretend that he wasn’t a killer or a monster. He was just a man. A man who through sheer dumb luck, managed to stumble through the wrong window and find the right person to heal him. Steve was no one special to the world, but to the Winter Soldier and in turn Bucky, he was a savior with skinny knees, an attitude too big for his britches and eyes that held all the kindness and resolve in the world. Steve was his world.

**Author's Note:**

> A tiny Christmas present for [@hark_bananas](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hark_bananas) who wanted 1. Dom pre-serum Steve 2. Unrepentant tenderness 3. Food
> 
> [Twitter](https://twitter.com/brokenintowords)  
> 


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